A Shadow in the East
by ParumLuter
Summary: When Bilbo is offered a chance to bring Thorin Oakenshield back from the dead, he immediately leaps at the opportunity. But magic comes with a price, and when Thorin wakes up, neither the dwarf or the hobbit are who they used to be...an AU where Thorin and Bilbo become corrupted from the One Ring, and it's up to the Company to take it to Mount Doom. Contains light Bagginshield.
1. Mine

**Why hello. **

**Since the other story I've been working hasn't really kicked off, I've decided to work on a more angsty idea that popped into my head a few days ago. So, I hope you enjoy it!**

**Extent of Bagginshield: It will just be Thorin and Bilbo acknowledging they love each other. Might be some hugging, but not kissing and DEFINITELY NOT SMUT! If you don't ship them, just of them in a Sherlock and John relationship kind of way. They're best friends, basically :)**

**Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this!**

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_Farewell, my dear burglar_.

These were the last words that Thorin Oakenshield said to Bilbo Baggins. At first, the hobbit was in a state of denial, as he tried to comprehend what Thorin had said to him.

_No,_ he thought numbly as a white cloth was pulled over the dwarf's body. _It cannot be_. He ignored the warm, comforting hand of Balin on his shoulder and ran out of the small tent, to Oin's shouts of protests.

He ran for what seemed like an age, before his legs could run anymore. He collapsed to his knees, sobbing his eyes out onto the barren soil beneath his knees. The sky let loose a light shower of rain, as if Mahal, too, was also weeping for the warrior. He did not feel the throbbing pain in his forehead, where the rock had struck him, as he was drowning too much in his sorrow.

_What about the life we were going to have in Erebor_? He wanted to wail, though he knew it would be no use. He felt as if Thorin had betrayed him, for leaving the hobbit alone. This saddened Bilbo, and he cried harder.

A million thoughts were rushing through his head, as he desperately tried to imagine how life would've been if Thorin died. Bilbo would've been his loyal Consort—chiding him and supporting him much like a loyal advisor. But Bilbo knew he would've been much more than that.

He would've been Thorin's companion for life.

Bofur found him later, on his knees, his clothes and hair damp, and his eyes raw and dry from crying, until no tears fell anymore. He allowed himself to be led to the Healing Halls in Erebor, sucking in for breath like a half drowned person. The sounds around him were muted, as if someone had clamped their hands over his ears. He could not discern what Bofur was murmuring to him, though it sounded warm and comforting. Finally, he succumbed to his weariness and fell into darkness.

He found himself under warm sheets when he came around. He was in a small room, dimly lit by the dying flame of a candle beside his bed. There was a large bandage on his forehead, and he felt heavy and tired.

"Master Baggins," Balin was at the door, a sad smile on his face. "You're awake at last,"

"How long have I been unconscious for, Balin?" he asked.

"Just a few hours," the dwarf replied. "How are you?"

"I matter not," Bilbo said hastily. Under the sheets, he fingered with his golden ring, taking comfort in the way it whispered to him. "How are Fili and Kili?"

Balin sighed. "They are stable—not getting worse yet not getting any better. The Healers are saying that if they do not wake up by two days, there is minimal chance of them surviving."

"How awful," Bilbo murmured. "Has Gandalf done anything to help?"

"He's done everything—healed the majority of their wounds and slowed the blood flow down. It's drained him completely."

"What about the elves?"

"They've tried everything as well. They've said that only time will tell,"

"They'll pull through," Bilbo said reassuringly, but the words tasted bitter in his mouth.

"Of course," Balin said. "Because the lads are strong, and the Line of Durin are not so easily broke—"He choked on the last word, and quickly walked out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him.

_Poor Fili and Kili_, he thought to himself, twirling the ring around in the pocket of his waistcoat. _I will not be able to see the expression on their faces when they find out Thorin is dead_.

_You might not have to,_ a silky voice echoed in his mind.

Bilbo jumped, causing the bed to creak slightly. _Who's that?_

_Why, it is your old friend,_ the voice chuckled. _You picked me up in the Goblin tunnels._

Bilbo couldn't believe it. _Are you…my ring?_ He felt a bit stupid for asking that question.

_Do not feel foolish, Master Baggins. Yes, I am the ring you took from the creature, Gollum_.

_How come you have never talked to me before?_ Bilbo asked. _I've only ever heard you whisper things that were too soft for my ears before…_

_I have been biding my strength, and my time Master hobbit. For 500 years, I lived in the clutches of that gangly creature. Now, I am free_.

_But why would you speak to me now? What do I have to offer?_

_Hobbits are wonderful, curious creature Master Baggins. You have much to offer to me. And I have much power_.

_And how much power do you have?_

_The power to bring back your One from the dead. The dwarf they call Thorin Oakenshield._

Bilbo's heart skipped a beat, as he froze in shock. _Could you?_

_It comes with a small price,_ the ring said. _But it matters not. Would you pay any price to bring back your beloved dwarf from the dead?_

_Yes, I would,_ Bilbo begged. _Anything to bring him back_.

_Good,_ the ring said. _But you must do what I say from now, is that clear?_

_Yes._ All Bilbo could think of was of Thorin breathing again.

Thinking again.

Alive again.

Talking again.

_Okay, Master Baggins_._ First, slip me on_.

Bilbo obliged, turning invisible again. He felt light-hearted and carefree again.

_Then you must sneak out and find Oakenshield's body. Just listen to my voice and I'll do the rest_.

As if in a trance, he rose out of the bed and walked towards the door, opening it silently and stepping out.

_That's it. Just follow me_.

Bilbo walked through the cold, stone corridors, not knowing where he was going. His feet made no sound as they led him to the place where Thorin laid.

_He will be with me soon_. These were the hobbit's only thoughts, as his feet led him through the quiet Erebor.

He soon stopped outside a thick, stone door. Though the words were written in dwarvish runes, Bilbo could somehow understand them.

_The Antechamber of Mahal_, it read. Bilbo pushed open the door and stepped inside. Suddenly, all the warmth rushed out of his body and he shivered.

It was as cold as death.

In the middle of the room was a stone slab, risen high on an ornately carved pedestal. On the stone slab laid Thorin, his black hair surrounding his peaceful face like a curtain of night, the silver beads winking at him like stars. His hands were placed on his stomach, as if he was just sleeping.

_Not for much longer,_ Bilbo thought as he gazed upon the dwarf. Thorin's corpse had been cleansed of any dirt or blood. He was dressed in a simple navy tunic, all adornments stripped from him but his hair beads.

_You have followed all my instructions perfectly so far,_ the ring purred. _The next stage is to hold his hand with the hand I am on._

_And what will happen if I do? _Bilbo thought suspiciously.

_You will see,_ it replied simply.

Bilbo stretched out towards Thorin's limp hand.

_Should I take his hand?_ He thought as his hand got closer and closer.

_Because…_

The hand got closer.

_All…_

Their fingertips touched.

_Magic…_

Bilbo's fingers curled around Thorin's.

_Comes…_

Their palms touched.

_With a price._

Bilbo tightly clasped Thorin's and his hand together.

The ring began muttering in a strange tongue, the words slithering on and off Bilbo's skin eerily, like a snake. At once, the ring and Thorin's body began glowing in a harsh golden light. The hobbit found his strength being sapped out of him as he held on.

_What's happening!?_ He thought frantically. Bilbo tried to wrench his hand out of Thorin's but it was as if they were moulded together.

_Foolish, naïve hobbit!_ The ring snarled as Bilbo's vision became blurrier. _All magic come with a price, and the price for raising your beloved from the dead is your soul!_

_No,_ he thought weakly, as his legs buckled underneath him. The edge of his distorted vision darkened as he fell to the cold, stone floor. _Who are you?_

_I am the Necromancer of Dol Guldur,_ the ring said. _And your soul is mine_.

His memories flashed by him, as his vision dimmed. He saw Thorin entering Bagend, Thorin saving him when he fell, Thorin hugging him on Carrock, the way Thorin's face lit up when Bilbo jangled the cell keys in his face, Thorin in Lake town, when he confessed to loving him, Thorin's rage when he found out Bilbo stole the Arkenstone…

And the last memory—the light leaving Thorin's eyes as he choked out his last words.

_Farewell, my dear burglar_.

And his last conscious thought, before Bilbo blacked out, was an apology. To Thorin. To everyone he cared about.

_I'm sorry._

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**Comments? Criticism? Both are welcome!**

**As we progress through this story, the chapters will be longer :)**


	2. Gone

**Woah... I have got such a _wonderful_ response from the last chapter! I mean like, woah!**

**For clarification, this chapter is being told from Balin's POV.**

**Enjoy!**

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Balin quickly slammed the door shut and turned away, praying to Mahal that he hoped Bilbo didn't see the tears that were threatening to spill out as he talked to the hobbit. Now they were falling freely onto the floor, splashing on the stone like drops of rain. Balin did not move to wipe his eyes—in fact, he did not care.

Balin remembered when Thorin was younger. When Erebor was at its glory, and gold ran in rivers, and silver fountains would spew water that shone with rainbows, caught by the sunlight. They were more carefree when they were younger, not knowing that in a few years' time, Smaug would come.

They spent years wandering the wilds with the other dwarves that had escaped from the dragon fire. They came to Ered Luin, where Thorin worked tirelessly to make sure every dwarf was settled. He took jobs as a blacksmith, making sure that everyone had some money to live.

But when the Battle of Azanulbizar happened, Thorin became heartbroken, and haunted by the memories of his dead family blankly staring up at him. He fell into a deep hole of misery, riddled with survivor's guilt and the fact that he couldn't save Frerin, or Thror, or Thrain.

Then his sister found her One, and married. They had two bouncing balls of life named Fili and Kili. They acted much like Thorin and Frerin in their younger days. The lads were inseparable; they did everything together as they grew up.

Then when Thorin approached him and asked him to join on the quest to reclaim Erebor, at first, Balin had argued against it, saying it was a suicide mission. But in the end, loyalty won over, and in his heart, he knew that he would always follow his King and old friend to the ends of the earth.

Then the quest began. Battling trolls, orcs, wargs and all the foul creatures of the earth, slowly making their way to Erebor. They encountered elves, the Men of the Lake, stone giants and finally, a fire-breathing dragon with armour like iron. When news reached them, that Smaug had been killed, they had rejoiced. But when Bard and the elves had come to the gate, demanding payment for the slaying of Smaug, Thorin had refused. Balin knew his King had been affected by the Gold Sickness, but he was too afraid to speak up.

Then the Battle of the Five Armies happened.

Tales and songs of this battle would lament at the loss of comrades on both sides of the battlefield. Much death was dealt that day, the death rate even higher than the Battle of Azanulbizar. Balin was relieved when it was over.

Until he had stumbled on the bodies of Fili and Kili.

Balin entered the room next to Bilbo's, where the lads laid on separate beds. When Balin had found them, their fingers were interlaced, as their life slowly bled out onto the corpses of the orcs around them. The arrow that had been sticking out of Kili's torso had been removed, and Fili's tunic had been removed, showing the red, angry scars that criss-crossed his back. Both were breathing, but it was rapid and shallow.

Dwalin sat a silent vigil at the foot of their beds, staring at the ground. Balin knew that his brother blamed himself for "letting Thorin die" and "letting the orcs cut the lads up". Balin had watched, on the battlefield, as Thorin fell, and Dwalin being pushed roughly away by fighting orcs, as Fili and Kili had fallen defending their uncle.

"It is not your fault, brother," Balin squeezed Dwalin's shoulder in a reassuring way. "You did everything you could,"

"But it wasn't good enough," Dwalin growled. "Thorin's dead, and the lads are on Mahal's doorstep."

"But they will live," Balin said. "Do you doubt their strength and stubbornness?"

"I do not," Dwalin softly chuckled. "But I wish I'd been there…maybe if I'd been a bit quicker…quicker to kill those filthy orcs…"

"Do you think Thorin would want you wallowing in your guilt?" Balin asked. "He'd want you to be strong for the lads!"

"Of course, brother," Dwalin pulled him in to gently butt their foreheads together. "And I shall be."

"We will not let Fili and Kili die," Balin vowed.

A soft knock at the door broke the sad silence. It opened to reveal a pale, blonde elf in silver armour. He had a red cloak draped on his elegant shoulder, and a crown of wrought, silver thorns sat atop his head.

"You!" Dwalin stood up, his hands on his axes. Balin stood protectively beside his brother. "What are you doing here!?"

"My condolences, Master Dwarf," King Thranduil bowed his head. "I am sorry for the loss of your former King, Thorin Oakenshield."

"What's it to you?" Dwalin asked aggressively. Balin put a steady hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

"I only came to give you this," From within his robes, he withdrew a long object hidden in a velvet cloth. He kneeled down and held it out to Balin, who suspiciously flicked a corner of the cloth off.

There, gleaming in the folds, was _Orcist_.

"I thought it would be fitting if this could be placed in Thorin's tomb," Thranduil explained. "I have also taken the liberty of placing the weapons we took from in Mirkwood, in the armoury."

"We don't need your—"

"Thank you," Balin cut though politely, shooting his brother a dangerous glare. Refusing gifts from King Thranduil would bring bad luck upon them. How stupid it sounded, Balin didn't want to risk it. "Would you like us to show you to where Thorin's body is being held?"

"That would be good," Thranduil dipped his head, showing no signs that he had heard Dwalin's cut-off protest. "Lead the way."

Balin and Dwalin led the Elven King through the halls of Erebor, occasionally stopping to let a dwarf pass them.

"Are you mad?" Dwalin hissed. "You're letting Thranduil into the Antechambers of Mahal?"

"What did you want me to do, turn him away?" Balin snapped back.

They ran into Gandalf on the way, who was sitting on a stone bench outside one of the rooms, blowing smoke rings into the air.

"Ah, Balin, Dwalin," he greeted. "And King Thranduil. What is the purpose of gracing me with your presence at the moment?"

"We are taking King Thranduil to the Antechambers of Mahal," Balin replied. He had always been the talker—Dwalin was the silent warrior. "He would like to offer Thorin's sword, _Orcist_, to be placed in his tomb."

"Very fitting," Gandalf mused, as he blew out a very impressive smoke ring. "Shall I accompany you?"

"Of course," Balin glanced at Dwalin to see his reaction, but the dwarf's face remained impassive.

They reached the Antechamber. Balin closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts up, so that he wouldn't break down the moment he would see his old friend's dead body lying on a slab. A slight sniff on his left told him that Dwalin was doing the same thing.

But just before he could push open the door, a shout interrupted him.

"Balin! Dwalin!"

It was Bofur—his eyes wide with fear and his hat askew. He skidded to a halt at Thranduil's feet and panted. Balin immediately knew what was wrong, as Bofur was making no jibe at why Thranduil was with them.

"It's…Bilbo…" he panted. He must've run to catch up with them. "He's…missing…from…his…bed…"

Balin and Dwalin exchanged a worried glance. "When did you see this?"

"Just a few moments ago," Bofur had finally caught his breath. "I went to check on him, and I found the sheets empty. I asked a passing guard where you went, and I immediately came here."

"Gandalf, what do you think?" Dwalin demanded, but the wizard was looking at the door, his eyes fixed on some point beyond it, as if he could see through the stone. Next to him, Thranduil had a horrified expression on his face.

"What is it?" Bofur asked quickly.

Gandalf broke off his stare and looked at the dwarf. "Black speech," he whispered. "Coming from behind the door."

It was Dwalin who sprang into action. With all his might, he shoved his shoulder against the stone door, pushing it open and making it slam on the wall.

"Oh no…" Balin whispered as he saw Bilbo's body slumped on the floor, his fingers locked with Thorin's. A golden haze was surrounding their figures, as loud chanting coming from an unknown source slithered around, making him shiver.

But Balin's gaze was fixed on the glowing object on Bilbo's finger.

_His ring,_ he thought confusedly. But he could see the hobbit, even though the ring was clearly on his finger.

"DON'T TOUCH HIM!"

Dwalin froze, his hand hovering over Thorin's body. It was Gandalf who had shouted at him.

"There is dark magic going on here," he said ominously. "If you interrupt the ritual, there is a likely chance Bilbo will die."

"But we can't just stand here and watch!" Bofur was shaking.

"What can we do, _Mithrandir?_" Thranduil was looking scared, more scared than Balin had ever seen him.

"We cannot intercede," Gandalf shook his head. "So we must wait."

They didn't to wait long. Almost at once, the dark chanting slowed, and then stopped. The light around Thorin and Bilbo's body began fading, as the hobbit coughed and began stirring.

"Bilbo!" Bofur rushed over to him, and rolled him onto his back. A small groan escaped his lips as he slowly began moving. Balin and Dwalin came over too, with Gandalf and Thranduil following closely behind. Bofur quickly yanked the ring off his finger, and shoved it into the pocket of Bilbo's waistcoat.

Suddenly, his eyes opened. They were filled with golden light, as he stared up into nothingness. Then he blinked, and his eyes turned blue again. But there was a hardness in them that Balin didn't recognise from when he last saw Bilbo.

"Are you okay?" Dwalin asked, helping him up.

"Yes, I think I'm fine," There was a guarded look in his eyes, as it lingered on Gandalf and Thranduil. "Perfectly fine."

"Are you sure, my dear fellow?" Gandalf asked softly.

"Yes!" Bilbo's snapped back harshly. Balin slightly jumped back—this was not the grieving hobbit he had seen earlier.

Suddenly, Balin heard heavy breathing behind him. Turning around slowly, he saw the source of breathing, and almost fainted.

"Thorin…" Dwalin murmured, frozen in shock. "You're alive."

Balin had seen him fall on the battlefield, many wounds on his body. He had watched as the Healers carried him away on a stretcher. He had watched as a white robe was draped over his lifeless body.

And now Thorin Oakenshield was sitting up and staring at him, as if he'd just woken up.

"Balin," His tone was cold and clipped, and his eyes showed no warmth. His icy gaze lingered on each dwarf, and finally locked on Bilbo.

"Bilbo," he said hungrily. There was a strange light in his eyes, as he slid off the stone slab and embraced the hobbit. They barely even glanced at the others as they stalked out of the room, their hands locked together.

And Balin knew, from that day on, it wasn't Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins who left the Antechamber of Mahal that day.

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**Comments? Criticism? Both are welcome!**

**Haha, so suspenseful! :)**


	3. Awake

**Yah! Bring on the reviewers and followers and favourite-ers! *gives cookies***

**Enjoy!**

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_"Kili!"_

_An agonising pain ripped through his body as he gutted an orc. Slowly, he looked down to see an arrow protruding from his torso. _

_"Kili!" his brother shouted again. _

_He dropped the sword and stumbled to his knees, the battle making a small berth around him as if some invisible wall separated him from the rest of the world. _

_"Don't you dare!" He tried to hold onto the sound of his brother's voice, as the blonde fought his way towards him. But he was slowly slipping away, Fili's figure becoming fuzzy. Even the pain was slightly abating._

_A heart-breaking shriek snapped him out of his daze. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fili fall, an orc with a twisted face slashing at his brother's back. _

_"FILI I'M COMING!" It took all his willpower to grab his bow, and shakily aim an arrow at the filthy creature's head and let it loose. Spurting black blood, the orc fell, an arrow sticking out of its neck. Though in excruciating pain, Kili had extremely good aim._

_Fili, he thought, as he dropped his bow and began crawling across the field to his brother's prone body. His eyelids were closed, but as Kili inched closer, they fluttered open, fixing on the brunette with a blue-grey, unfocused gaze._

_"Kili…" he groaned, weakly reaching out to him. Kili stiffly stretched his arm out and clamped onto the blonde's hand, his fingers closing automatically over Fili's, as if he was filling a hole with the right shape._

_"Look at me," Fili panted. Kili slowly lifted his brown eyes to meet the blue ones. They were clear and full of peace. He could almost forget the pain that was racking through his body._

_"You're hurt," Fili extended his arm to touch the arrow sticking out from Kili's chest, but he winced, and it fell short._

_"Don't waste your strength," Kili said, blinking a tear out of his eye. "You're hurt too."_

_"I'm just being a big brother," Fili smiled. A tear fell from his eye as well. "You remember, Kee? When we used to pretend that we were warriors reclaiming Erebor?"_

_"Yeah," Kili coughed. A bit of blood splattered onto the ground before him. "I never knew it would end like this,"_

_"I know, Kee," Fili sighed, half closing his eyes. Kili's heart stopped for a moment, until Fili opened his eyes again and looked at him._

_"I'm scared, Fee," he said, holding his brother's hand more tightly. "I don't want to die," Tears were falling freely from his eyes now._

_"I know, but we'll all have to eventually. Just think of it as…moving on,"_

_"Moving on," he repeated. His eyelids felt heavy, and darkness crept to the edge of his vision like a storm cloud._

_"Just think of—Kili, Kili! Listen to me!" Fili's voice became high with worry. "Focus on me!"_

_"I…can't…" he slurred, trying to look into Fili's eyes. He wanted that to be the last thing he saw, before…he…_

"Kili!"

The brunette blearily blinked his eyes open. He was in a white room, under warm blankets. He turned his head to see Balin smiling down kindly at him.

_Mahal no! _He thought in horror. _Did Balin fall as well!?_

"A-a-are you d-d-dead?" he stammered.

"My dear lad, I am not," Balin said. Though there was warmth in his smile, he knew something dark was haunting the old dwarf. "You have been unconscious for two days. We thought you were going to die,"

"You know me," Kili said jokingly, trying to sit up. Instantly, pain shot through his lower chest.

"Oh no, laddie," Balin gently pushed him back down. "Be careful—you were shot by an Orcish arrow, you know."

"Right," Kili flopped back onto his warm bed. "By the way, who called my name earlier?"

Balin's gaze flitted to over Kili's shoulder, and smiled. The brunette turned his head to see—

"Fee!" he shouted in delight.

"Hi," the blonde said, beaming. His tunic was off, showing the bandages that were wrapped over his chest and back like a spider web. "I just woke up,"

"Mahal," Kili breathed. "I thought I'd lost you!"

"I thought I'd lost _you!_" Fili was grinning, but his eyes betrayed the fright he was showing, when he though his little brother was going to die. "You blacked out in front of me, and…" He trailed off, his voice shaking.

"Don't worry," Kili stretched out his arm. Almost simultaneously, Fili stretched out his, so that their fingertips were touching.

"I'll never let you go," Fili swore.

"Neither will I," Kili grinned.

"Well then," Balin stood up. "I'd better let the others in—they've all been waiting outside, wondering whether you're alive or dead."

"Okay," Fili said, as Balin calmly walked up to the door and opened it. Instantly, the two dwarves were overwhelmed by a cohort of happy dwarves.

"Fili! Kili! You're alive!" Bofur shouted excitedly.

"We'd thought you wouldn't last the day!" Dori exclaimed.

"How little faith you put in us," Fili shook his head in mock sadness. "Still, it's good to see you guys again."

"Good you see _you guys_ up and awake!" Bombur said. From behind his back, he revealed a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies. Kili's stomach growled loudly, as he realised how hungry he was.

"It's to celebrate that you woke up," Bombur added, winking at Kili. "I know how hungry you must all be. Here," He offered the plate to him. The brunette reached out for a cookie and bit into it, savouring the taste. A crunch on his left told him that Fili was tucking into another cookie.

"Hopefully I baked enough," Bombur peered at his plate worriedly. "Because…hang on a moment…"

"What's wrong?" Fili asked through his mouthful of crumbs.

"There are _three_ cookies missing, not two!" Bombur shouted. "I cooked _exactly_ 20—"

"Sorry," Nori spoke up sheepishly, holding up a chocolate chip cookie. "I ummm…couldn't resist."

Dori rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"You can have that one anyway," The large dwarf shrugged. "I baked enough for every member of the Company, plus three each for Fili and Kili."

"Oh," Dwalin said, as he peered at the cookies. "So…can we eat them now?"

"Be my guest."

Instantly, there was a scramble for the cookies. Kili had to hold back his laughter as he watched the dwarves squabble. Soon, only eight cookies were left on the plate.

"Hang on," Fili's brow furrowed. "That's not right,"

"What's not?" Kili asked as he reached for another cookie, slightly wincing from the sharp sting in his chest. Bombur took the liberty of bringing the plate closer to him.

"Look, Kili," Fili pointed to the plate. "There are eight on the plate. There should only be four, because you know—20 minus 14—"

"Get to the point,"

"What I'm saying is, where are Bilbo and Thorin?"

The cheerful atmosphere in the room suddenly disappeared. Abruptly, half of the Company avoided their eyes, and the other half suddenly became interested in some bit of clothing.

"Guys?" Kili tried to catch Bofur's eye, but he looked away. "Where are they?"

Silence greeted them.

"Are they…" Fili began trembling. "Dead?"

"NO!" They all shouted at once.

"Then where are they?" _This must be some kind of joke,_ Kili thought. "Hiding behind the door or something?"

"Do not joke about this," Oin's tone was guarded. "This is not a laughing matter,"

"Then where are they?" Fili asked impatiently. "Surely they'd be delighted that we've woken up!"

"Shhh!" Gloin hushed them, as Balin moved to quickly close the bedroom door. "We'll tell you once Balin's checked that the room's soundproof."

When the white-haired dwarf returned to the foot of their beds, Dwalin began speaking.

"There is something wrong with Thorin and Bilbo," he said in a low voice. "It's as if they have a sickness, but they do not look ill."

"It is like the gold sickness that plagued them," Gloin said. "A sickness of the mind."

"However, when we presented Thorin with the Arkenstone, he casually tossed it away—as if it meant nothing to him."

"So…do you know what's wrong with him?" Kili asked.

Balin, Dwalin and Bofur exchanged a knowing look, before the hatted dwarf spoke up. "We think it's something to do with…ahhh… Thorin being dead."

"THORIN WAS DEAD!?" Fili yelled in shock.

"We thought he was," Balin sighed. "We saw him fall—his heart stop beating. But then…he came back to life."

Quickly, Dwalin told the brothers an abridged version of what had happened in the Antechamber. Kili felt his eyes go wider and wider, until they threatened to pop out of their sockets.

"So…Bilbo's ring brought him back to life, and somehow changed both of them?" Fili questioned, once the story was finished.

"We asked Gandalf," Bofur said. "He said he'd never seen anything like it."

"So what can we do?" Kili brought his knees closer to chest, while trying not to cause himself as much pain as possible.

"Only time will tell," Balin sighed. "We are not sure if they are good or bad yet,"

"But what's your suspicion?"

His next line made Kili shiver. "We think they've turned bad."

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**Comments? Criticism? Both are welcome!**


	4. Change

**There is a _huge_ jump into the future, so bear with me :) is this story going too fast? Should I have like, slow plot building or something?**

**Enjoy!**

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_~20 years later~_

Kili rounded the alley corner, as he raced through the darkened streets of Laketown. He paused to duck behind a post, its long shadow enveloping him in darkness. A troupe of dwarven guards passed him, oblivious to the figure crouching in the shadows. When they passed, he breathed a silent sigh of relief and made his way up to the old, wooden house that looked the same as all the other houses beside it. He raised his hand and knocked as gently as he could.

At once, the door opened, and a hand quickly thrust him inside. In the dim light of the candle, he saw a smooth face, floppy brown hair and a splash of freckles across his nose. Kili would've mistaken him for a boy if he hadn't known the lad for over 20 years.

"This way," Bain hissed, motioning with his hand as he held the candle aloft in the other hand. "What took you so long?"

"I had to rescue a few more prisoners today," Kili whispered back, fingering the cloth sack that was swung over his shoulder. "And then the King sent me on some errands,"

Bain muttered something about excuses, but there was sympathy in his eyes. "Well, they've been waiting for a long time, and they're hungry."

"I can understand that." Bain led Kili to a small, inconspicuous hatch in the wooden floorboards, and opened it up.

"They're in there," the man said as Kili carefully made his way down the small steps to the secret basement that lay underneath the house.

"Kili, is that you?" asked a dull voice. In the flicker of the small lantern, Kili caught a glimpse of the faces of Bofur, Bombur and Bifur.

"I'm sorry," he said, laying down the sack slung over his shoulder. "I was held up by other things concerning the King."

"That's okay, laddie," Though Bofur's face was gaunt with hunger, his voice and eyes showed warmth for the younger dwarf. "May we?"

Kili politely stepped back as Bifur, Bofur and Bombur fell on the contents of the sack, hungrily devouring the food that he had brought like hungry wolves. Seeing his friends scrabbling pathetically on the floor like beggars sent of a surge of anger through Kili's heart, directed at the King and his Consort.

Much had happened in the last 20 years, ever since Thorin rose from the dead. In the past years, he had ruled Erebor with an iron fist, taking Bilbo as his loyal Consort under the Mountain. They rid the surrounding lands of orcs and the like, and also had a steady flow of riches and wealth coming in each week.

But though the people were wealthy, they were not happy. Kili knew that when he set eyes on Thorin and Bilbo after recovering from his wounds, he knew that they weren't his beloved uncle and the gentle hobbit they once were before the Battle of the Five Armies had happened.

No, they were something else far from that.

The first thing they did was make all the citizens of Erebor swear undying loyalty to their King and Consort. Fair enough.

And then began the curfews. The taxes. The strict laws.

Kili did not know the name of the first dwarf. What he knew was that he'd been two gold pieces off the tax.

They were found the next day in their house. Their eyes wide. Their throats slit cleanly as they lain in bed.

"Was any reason for killing his whole family?" Fili had demanded. He was one of the only dwarves brave enough to stand up to the King and his Consort. "There was no cause for killing the mother as well as the two daughters!"

"Bad blood ran in that family," Bilbo's voice was soft and dangerous as he flicked out the gleaming knives he hid under his sleeves. Gone were the tattered red jacket and the leaf coloured waistcoat—he wore dark red robes lined with the fur of brown and golden wargs, which clashed well with Thorin's robes of navy lined with the fur of Azog's white warg.

"But was it necessary to slit the throat of a nine year old?" Fili's voice got louder and louder.

"Do you question your King's authority?" Bilbo purred, as he stepped closer to the blonde. His knives were now in full view. "You know what happens to people who question their King's authority."

"I'm sorry, Lord Bilbo," Kili rushed to Fili's side and bowed low. He hated every second of it. "My brother doesn't know what he's saying…it's the painkillers, you know?"

"Of course," Bilbo withdrew his knives, but a warning flashed in his eyes.

_Next time, he will not be so lucky_.

"What was that about?" Fili hissed as soon as they were in the safety of their rooms. "Bilbo had just killed an innocent family!"

"Yes, but what use would you be if you ended up dead?" Kili snapped back. "I need you, Fee."

The blonde sighed. "Okay, I won't answer back anymore."

Bilbo, as well as being the corrupted Consort of the King, had also become some sort of personal assassin for Thorin. He was the one that whispered in Thorin's ear, urging him to let him kill the "unfaithful ones". He used the ring to slip into the people's homes, and slit their throats where they slept.

But sometimes, the King was merciful. Sometimes, he would ask Bilbo, instead, to lock them in the dungeons, where they would be interrogated and tortured for days on end, until they confessed from the excruciating pain of Bilbo's knives. When they did confess, they were publicly executed, by means of beheading.

After that confrontation with Bilbo, Fili and Kili had no choice but to watch as countless dwarves were tortured, executed or murdered in their beds for petty reasons. Being out after dark, not paying the tax properly, plotting against the King and his Consort…

The other members of the Company knew that something wasn't right with them. With another band of dwarves sworn to secrecy, they began conspiring against Thorin and Bilbo, by freeing the prisoners in the dungeon, and sneaking out after the curfew to bring food to the other prisoners, as they were not fed well. Since half of the Company were on the Royal Court, they knew when Bilbo was planning on keeping a silent, invisible watch on the dungeons.

The Mirkwood elves and the men of Laketown and Dale were in the group as well. They were the ones that sheltered and hid the dwarves that had managed to escape. Kili knew they were risking a lot, even though they hadn't sworn loyalty to the King.

Though, there were traitors in their little conspiracy as well. One night, an unlucky dwarf was slashed to pieces by Bilbo, as the traitor watched, snickering the shadows. He had told the King to expect an attack that night. His laughter was cut short by Bilbo, who killed him next.

The next day, Fili made sure that everyone in the conspiracy was loyal, and not a traitorous backstabber.

The rescuing and sneaking around continued for the next 16 years. Until Bofur was caught.

An anonymous person had tipped Thorin and Bilbo off—that someone of the conspiracy was going to free some prisoners that night. Bofur had been in the middle of freeing a family, when Bilbo sneaked up on him and held his knives to the dwarf's throat. He was given a hurried trial, and then was sentenced to death. On the night before the execution, Fili had freed him, and taken him to King Bard's house, where Bombur and Bifur had been led by Kili. If Bofur was to be killed, there was no doubt that his cousin and brother would follow.

The dwarves had been sheltered for three years in safety, though in the past year, Thorin had sent guards down to Laketown, for "protection". Everyone knew that was a load of rubbish—it was obvious that Thorin wanted to keep an eye on his neighbours, in case of a rebellion.

The reason why Kili was bringing them food was that it would be too suspicious if Bard kept on buying food enough to feed seven people and the number of farm animals in his care. So whenever Bard could, he fed the leftovers to the dwarves, and Kili or Fili would sneak food to them whenever he could.

"So, what's happening in Erebor?" Bofur asked, chomping on an apple.

"Another dwarf was executed today," Kili sighed. Sometimes, they had to let some dwarves be killed, so Bilbo and Thorin couldn't draw connections, and guess who was in the conspiracy. "It was a lass—135 years and living with her very old father. "

Bifur shuddered violently, as he signed in Iglishmêk. _What did she do?_

"Plotting against the King, apparently," Kili said. "Though she wasn't part of _our_ conspiracy."

"Sad," Bofur remarked. Another fact that pained him was that Bofur couldn't wear his hat anymore, in case someone found it, as it was too distinctive. Shortly after being concealed, Bofur had made the decision to burn it—a decision that pained him, and had obviously taken a lot of thought.

"How are my children? And Panthea?" Bombur sounded desperate as he devoured some meat. He had lost a lot of weight since escaping, which saddened him.

"I saw them two days ago—they seemed fine," Kili replied. Since Bombur was in hiding, his wife and children had to also be in hiding. They lived in separate homes, so as not to attract any suspicion. "They keep asking for you."

"That's good then," Bombur finished the meat and reached towards an apple.

"Everything seems to be in order then," Kili moved to the stairs. "The Company and all the other members of the conspiracy send their greetings, and hope you are well,"

_Well enough for someone who's in hiding and slowly starving,_ Bifur signed.

Kili smiled—he knew the dwarf had meant it good-naturedly. "Okay, hopefully I'll see you in the next few days."

"Bye," Kili felt their eyes trained on him as he walked up the stairs and closed the hatch behind him.

"Master Kili," A man with a lined face and rich clothing bowed to him. "My son told me that you'd come."

"King Bard," Kili bowed. "I wish there was a more efficient way of telling you that I'd be visiting, without means of birds, because birds can be intercepted."

"It's okay," Bard waved it off. "Though it would be a lot better. How is your uncle?"

"Still the same," Kili absentmindedly began swinging his foot to and fro. "I'd better ummm…get back before anyone notices."

"Of course," Bard headed to the nearest window and opened it. "Happy travelling."

Kili nodded his thanks, as he jumped out, checking his surroundings. "Bye."

He made his way back up to Erebor, praying that he wouldn't get caught. He slipped through the secret passageway in the dungeons, and silently creeped towards his room. He made it past the guards on watch, and collapsed on his bed.

_Hopefully no one saw me,_ he thought as he drifted off to sleep.

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**Comments? Criticism? Both are welcome!**


	5. Traitor

**OMG! I HAVEN'T UPDATED IN SUCH A LONG TIME! I just had a writer's block, and now school's started so I won't be updating this as frequent as I used to! **

**I hope this chapter is worth the wait :)**

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Fili rolled over, and hit the floor with a loud _thud_, startling the blonde out of his sleep.

"Mahal!" he shouted, whipping out the dagger he kept hidden in his sleeve. Then with a jolt, he realised he had just fallen out of bed, and that there was no danger. Weak sunlight was filtering through the silk curtains, and he could hear the singing of bird outside his window. It was morning.

Feeling foolish, he chucked the knife onto his bedside table as he got up, stretching his arms out wide and opening his mouth in a huge yawn. He quickly got dressed and shoved a couple of knives into his boots and sleeves. He went over to the chamber opposite his and knocked loudly.

"Kili, get up!" he shouted. He heard a groan, presumably his brother, who liked to oversleep in the morning. Suddenly, he felt guilty, as he remembered that Kili had been up for a couple more hours than him last night, sneaking out of Erebor and bringing food to Bifur, Bofur and Bombur.

_I must ask him how that went,_ he thought.

"C'mon Kili," he shouted again. "We have stuff to do—we're Princes of Erebor, remember?"

The door was flung open to reveal a tired Kili, his brown hair sticking up more than usual all over the place.

"Hey," he protested weakly. "I was on an errand last night, remember?"

"The King and his Consort don't know that," Fili reminded him grimly. They hardly referred them to their names anymore. "So you'd better perk up and look like you've had a good night's sleep. "

"Shouldn't be hard," Kili grumbled, shoving his brother into his bedroom. "I'm used to being constantly reminded that I have the permanent look of an overgrown puppy."

"So, how are they?" Fili leaned on the wall as he watched Kili pull his tunic on. "You know, the birds?"

"The birds" was a codename for the two brothers and their cousin. Everyone that had escaped had some sort of codename, so the King and his Consort wouldn't have a clue of what they were discussing.

"They always look underfed," Kili sighed, pulling his boots on. "It worries me."

"Don't let them hear you say that," The blonde joked. "I think they're more worried about us then themselves!"

Kili tied the laces of his left boot with a flourish, and then proceeded to work on the next one. "I'm just concerned, that's all. Come one," He stood up. "Let's go see what's going on around our border."

Most mornings, Thorin sent them to patrol the borders of Erebor. The brothers didn't complain—it meant more time away from their tyrannical uncle, and more time to plot with some of the dwarves in the conspiracy. But there was one fault with their morning border patrols.

Occasionally, Bilbo would accompany them.

_Hopefully, it's not today,_ Fili prayed as they headed to the Main Gate, where they'd be meeting their patrol.

"I hope at least one of the dwarves we know are in this group today," Kili muttered. Most dwarves were loyal to the King and his Consort, but only out of fear. Only some actually betrayed their kin to report to the power-hungry duo.

Being part of the King's Court as well as being Thorin's nephews meant that they were too, feared by the other dwarves. This was a very good disguise, but Fili wished that he could stop the dirty looks that were sent he and Kili's way every time he took a stroll.

They arrived at the gate, where a bunch of stony-faced dwarves stood in two lines, staring ahead of them. When the brothers arrived, they held their weapons out and bowed.

"Prince Fili and Prince Kili," they said in unison.

"Let's get on this patrol, shall we?" Kili said coldly, his joking manner hidden under his stern façade. This was another disadvantage of their "Nephews of Thorin" disguise—they had to act as distant and indifferent as they could.

Fili recognised two dwarves that were part of the conspiracy, though it was possible that there were more. There were many groups of dwarves in Erebor who plotted the fall of the King and his Consort. Since Fili and Kili had to hide where their loyalties lay, it wasn't surprising that they'd found an assassin hiding under Fili's bed once. Surprisingly, it had been Bilbo who had saved them. He had materialised in their room, and swiftly beheaded the assassin.

"Next time, be more vigilant," he had advised coolly. "These dwarves will seek to cause you harm if they can." He had stalked out, leaving Fili and Kili to clean up the blood and dispose of the body.

Fili took his place at the head of the patrol, while Kili brought up the rear. Their border landed on just the outskirts of Dale (which was currently being rebuilt) and a large chunk of the surrounding forest. Another hobby the brothers did to get away from Erebor was to hunt game to eat.

There was a rustle in the bushes beside them. The dwarves sharply turned their heads in unison, as Fili swiftly withdrew his twin swords.

"Be on your guard," he heard Kili mutter. The brunette had his bow out, and was pointing an arrow at the area of noise.

The leaves rustled again, and an elf stumbled out, his blue eyes wide with fear. His clothes were torn, and blood ran from a gash on his arm.

"An elf!" one of the dwarves exclaimed. "He's very far from Mirkwood!"

"What should we do?" Another dwarf pointed his spear at him. Fili could see the unwillingness to kill the elf in his eyes.

"Leave us," Fili flicked his sword, making the elf flinch. "My brother and I will deal with this alone." He sent a quick nod to Gladmâr—a fellow dwarf of the conspiracy—to lead them on the border patrol. Gladmâr understood and went to the front of the patrol leading them along the border, and out of sight.

Once Fili knew they were definitely out of earshot, he sheathed his swords. Kili acted similarly, slipping the arrow back into its quiver.

"You are Princes Fili and Kili?" the elf asked.

"Yes—do you come with a message?" the blonde queried, pointing at the elf's arm. "You're hurt,"

"That does not matter," the elf said. "I was ambushed by some warg-riders."

"Warg-riders?" Kili frowned. "Where?"

"Just on the plain," the elf answered impatiently. "But anyway, I come with a message from _Mithrandir_,"

The brothers inched closer interestedly. When Thorin and Bilbo's reign had started, they had, for no apparent reason, banned Gandalf from Erebor and the surrounding area under penalty of death.

"What does he say?" Fili asked. "Good news or bad news?"

"It's not really news," the elf corrected. "But he says to meet him at King Bard's house at midnight tonight. He has some news, though he did not disclose this to me."

"And is that all?" The elf nodded.

"You are from Mirkwood, no?" Kili said hesitantly. The elf nodded again.

"When you ummm…go back to Mirkwood, tell Tauriel I said hi,"

"And ummm…Prince Legolas," Fili added quickly, so that his brother wouldn't feel embarrassed. Though the pair was good friends, they were often mistaken for a couple.

"Right," the elf arched an eyebrow, amusement glimmering in his eyes, but said nothing. "And by the way, you can call me Suiadir." He turned and ran off back in the direction he came from.

"An odd fellow," Kili remarked.

"And who is this 'odd fellow'?"

Bilbo materialised in front of them, startling the brothers. The hobbit pocketed the gold ring he was wearing, and fixed them with a cold stare. Fili was nervous—_how long had he been there?_

"Just a dwarf from our patrol," Kili said calmly. He always had something to say. "He was acting…oddly."

"Do you remember what he looked like?" Bilbo questioned.

"His face was hidden by some sort of mask," Fili said, exchanging a worried glance with his brother. "So we couldn't really see his face."

"I shall look into that tonight," The Consort's face twisted cruelly. "I only came to tell you that your presence is required by the King. Two traitors have been brought forth, and we intended to interrogate them once you joined us. Your uncle is…" Bilbo licked his lips. "…Incredibly eager to start the interrogation, so he sent me to fetch you."

"What about our border patrol?" Kili asked as they made their way back up to Erebor.

"They will do fine without you," Bilbo dismissed. "This is much more important."

They entered the Throne Hall, where Thorin was languishing on a stone and metal throne twice as tall as him, inlaid with winking jewels. In front of him were two dwarves with manacles on their hands, and a bag pulled over their heads.

_Poor dwarves,_ Fili thought as he took his position on Thorin's right, signifying him as the next in line to rule Erebor. Bilbo took a smaller, gilded throne on Thorin's left, and Kili stood next to him.

"Remove the bags from the prisoner's heads!" Thorin barked to the guards that were standing close. They hurried over and pulled the bags of the dwarves' heads. Fili had to bite his tongue hard, to suppress the yell of amazement that was about to escape his lips.

"And now, for the Trial of the traitors, Balin and Dwalin, Sons of Fundin."

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**Comments? Criticism? Both are welcome!**


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